Those Who Run
by chaladie-heart
Summary: Featuring a Mulch-Artemis team-up; and of course Holly is the agent sent to investigate it all - and of course it really goes for Holly's femininity. Please read and review!
1. Those Who Run

Police Plaza, Haven City, The Lower Elements  
  
"Just a minute, please," said the desk sergeant. "I'm running a cross reference on all LEP fairy files, which, if I may remind you, there are over-"  
  
"Stop imitating Foaly," snapped Captain Holly Short, irritably eyeing the sergeant and the cuffed goblin she held at arm's length in turn.  
  
"Didn't find him!" exclaimed the pixie with unprofessional glee. "This means that he's just another one of those last B'wa Kell grunts that are running around Haven."  
  
Holly rolled her eyes, wondering how long ago it had been that the desk sergeant had gotten out of training. A day? A week?  
  
"What else is new?" she asked sarcastically, gingerly adjusting the weight of the stunned goblin against her arm.  
  
The pixie looked blank. "Um, so take him to the cells while I run up a profile for him. Shoplifting, was that what he did?"  
  
Captain Short spared him a ferocious glance before dragging the limp goblin out of the tiny cubicle and storming down to the cells of Police Plaza.  
  
After locking the grunt up, the LEP captain proceeded to the assignment room, which doubled as a lounge for off-duty officers.  
  
She ran a scan on her hand-held computer, penning in a few Gnommish symbols with a practiced hand.  
  
"Nothing," she said aloud, lifting off her helmet to reveal a face almost as well known in Police Plaza as that of Captain Trouble Kelp, possibly the most decorated officer of the LEP.  
  
Holly massaged the tips of her pointy ears, draping her slim frame over a metal chair. She was alone in the large room, which would explain why there were no assignments showing up on her computer. The captain lifted hazel eyes to the three plasma screens that dominated the far wall, scanning the lists of names and minor duties. Most of which had to do with the B'wa Kell. No surprises there.  
  
Holly scowled. Her favorite time of year, tourist season, had just started, so most officers were still out on the last desperate, straggling efforts of Operation Mop-Up, trying to effectively flush out the last of the B'wa Kell, the goblin group that had caused a revolt led by demoted LEP officer Briar Cudgeon and the master engineer Opal Koboi.  
  
Captain Short at last allowed a shadow of a smile to cross her pretty features, remembering. She, Commander Julius Root, Mulch Diggums and the humans Butler and Artemis Fowl had crushed that rebellion: Cudgeon was dead, and Opal Koboi was spending a few centuries in Howler's Peak, a goblin prison.  
  
Memories. Holly mused, running them through her mind like a video disk's contents. Everything she thought of seemed to lead back to Artemis Fowl, the human genius that had abducted her eighteen months ago.  
  
Artemis had been mind-wiped two months ago, Holly reminded herself. Why should she be thinking of him when he obviously didn't know a thing about her? But there was something about that Irish boy that Holly refused to let go of. When you heal someone's entire family, fight a troll for them and rescue their father from the freezing Arctic, it sort of makes them yours. Which, Holly realized, was entirely ridiculous.  
  
Foaly's face flickered into view on the middle screen, grinning. "Hey, Holly."  
  
The elf captain raised her eyebrows at the view screen, knowing that the camera Foaly'd planted there would broadcast her image onto his computer mainframe. "Hey, Foaly."  
  
Foaly tapped his moonometer. "Guess who forgot the time?"  
  
Holly didn't answer, instead fumbling for her own wrist meter underneath the sleeve of her LEP jumpsuit.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Work's over, so pack up and go home now," intoned Foaly, fading his image feed out of the screen.  
  
Holly frowned, retrieving her bag from the lockers and slipping out of the plaza. It was odd for her to forget the time like that. Maybe it was because she'd been remembering so much lately.  
  
Captain Short lifted her eyes, narrowly avoiding a blundering gnome. Memories were what had been. If she was going to get back to normal, she had to start living in the present and stop dwelling in the past. no matter how tempting it was. 


	2. Much of Mulch

|Police Plaza|  
  
Mulch Diggums sat impatiently in his cell, although what he was waiting for was probably going to take a lot longer than he could be impatient for. Mulch, kleptomaniac dwarf, was really in for it this time. One previous escapades with Artemis Fowl, he'd managed to slip away and start a new life somewhere else. Well, this time he'd been caught by Captain Holly Short and thrown into jail.  
  
Mulch wasn't one to hold grudges, so Holly wasn't down in his bad books. He was a creature who was devoted almost entirely to himself- that was, until Artemis Fowl came along. So Mulch was suited to the life of a fugitive. One thing he wasn't suited to was jail time.  
  
And waiting.  
  
Mulch was waiting for the sprite that came around daily to come back with news of a possible review of his case. At his last parting with Artemis Fowl, the Irish boy had slipped him a note and a medallion. The note read to have a review of his case, and when he was released to bring the medallion to him, Master Fowl.  
  
Mulch pulled the leather thong off of his neck, once more examining the gold disk. He'd come to the conclusion that it was some sort of Mud Man computer disk with some precious files stored on its chip. The dwarf's gaze practically bore another hole through the gold leaf as he stared at it unfixedly - something that, with the help of constant boredom, had become an almost impregnable routine.  
  
"It ain't gonna happen," Mulch said aloud, scratching his beard. "Nothing ain't ever gonna happen."  
  
It was at this moment that the sprite appeared at his door. "Diggums? Diggums, you got someone looking in on a possible review of your case."  
  
Hey presto, thought Mulch. Thank you, ladies and gents, that'll be all.  
  
-  
  
Mulch, wrists entwined in Plexiglas handcuffs, followed the nervous sprite down the corridors of Police Plaza. "This way, Diggums," she squealed, "This way, please."  
  
That girl really should be put into Traffic, thought Mulch, watching the bobbing yellow-jumpsuited figure with unusual observation. Everyone for a mile would stop when they got a load of that voice.  
  
He winced as the sprite ushered him into an unusually large office, mincing something or other about law enforcement strategies. "One two three march, out the door you go," a sarcastic voice instructed the sprite. A voice that Mulch knew only too well.  
  
He lowered himself into a chair. "Well, well. Foaly."  
  
"If it isn't Julius's favorite convict," grinned the centaur. "So, what makes you think you can demand a review of your case? According to our boss man, you are officially in the cells for at least a decade."  
  
Mulch ignored this for a moment. "Why does the mighty Foaly take my case into his own hands, instead of shoving it to a grunt?" he asked innocently.  
  
"It ain't polite to answer a question with a question," scolded Foaly, twirling in his specially adapted swivel chair. "My answer is, because you amuse me, Diggums. You're a creepy sort of guy - but the question is, how did this creepy little guy become so bold as to demand a case review?"  
  
Mulch stuck out a quivering lower lip. Not a pretty sight. "Pretty please with sugar on top?"  
  
"Quit with the pitiful act," snarled Foaly, in faithful imitation of Commander Julius Root. "I can see that you aren't going to stop whining until I give in. Are you totally disregarding the fact that I can throw you back in prison and ignore you for a few more centuries?"  
  
Mulch gave him what he considered his best puppy dog eyes. The result was a round look at eyes that you didn't really want to see.  
  
Foaly mockingly cowered in his chair. "Aren't you the gutsy fairy. Okay, okay, I give up, you win. I'll review your case, even if it is mostly just to annoy Julius."  
  
Mulch grinned. Foaly was his type of nice guy. Albeit, the nice guy that had helped return him to the grimy cells of Police Plaza more than six times.  
  
Foaly glided over the metal flooring on his swivel chair, flicking a few fingers over his mainframe keyboard almost absently, bringing up a database of case reviews. "There are thousands of these," he explained, "I've had to write more than one program to categorize each according to all factors and details."  
  
Mulch yawned openly.  
  
Foaly ignored it. The only one who'd not responded indifferently to his rants and lectures about technology had been Artemis Fowl, the genius Mud Boy. Of course, Fowl had been effectively mind-wiped two months ago. He would never admit it, but Foaly was starting to feel lonely again.  
  
He dropped down a scroll screen, keypadding down through the contents. "Blah blah blah, the van Gogh, the Jules Forten Cup, yadah yadah yadah, and finally the gold bars. Wait a minute. What the-"  
  
"What is it, Foaly?" Mulch asked, the picture of innocence.  
  
Foaly carefully dabbed at his eyes with a wet tissue. "D'arvit!" Eyes reddened, he peered once more at the screen.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Fibers in my eye. but the date! The date on your arrest." Foaly took one last look. Just in case three times wasn't enough. "Is a day after the search warrant of your cave."  
  
"What?"  
  
Foaly ran up another scan of files. When yet another screen with bearing Mulch's name popped up, he examined it closely, leaning in so close to the plasma screen that he almost burned off the tip of his nose.  
  
He sat back, slapping horsy hands down on the aluminum desk. "All right, 'fess up, Diggums. What'd you do this time - how'd you change the LEP info?"  
  
"That," Mulch rejoined, with dignity, "is a rhetorical question. I am not a computer freak as you are, my friend."  
  
Foaly glared. "Computer freak to you, my hairy little companion, but technical genius to all fairies with class and intelligence."  
  
"Dream on," said Mulch airily, waving vaguely around.  
  
Foaly sniffed. "Because you chose to insult my superior intelligence, I will allow you to be victim of a rant of our favorite boss elf. I will not name any names."  
  
In a matter of seconds Julius Root's face was featured on the computer mainframe, sucking on one of his trademark fungus cigars. He did not look happy.  
  
"Hello, convict."  
  
Mulch perkily scratched behind a pointed ear, looked about for a while and finally focused his tawny eyes on the screen. "Why, Julius!"  
  
"Enough," growled the commander. "I hear you have some news with dates in your file. Well, I'm telling you now, there is only a twenty-three percent chance that you're being released, and if you are -if- I can remind you that you will be closely monitored by the LEP for the rest of your life."  
  
Foaly flushed out the commander's image at the flick of a button. He looked disappointed that the commander hadn't, at the very least, started roaring.  
  
Mulch casually grinned at the ruffled centaur. "Well?"  
  
A minute later, he was sitting in his cell, smiling a Cheshire-cat smile. Goodbye LEP, he thought, Hello, Artemis Fowl. 


	3. Hollyberry Hollyfairy

|St. Bartleby's School for Young Gentleman|  
  
Artemis Fowl paused typing, his slender fingers poised over the one of the keyboard of his laptop. It was not something that one was allowed to have in St. Bartleby's. But what the dean didn't know didn't hurt him.  
  
He thought for a moment before finishing the email, and sending it directly to the Fowl Manor.  
  
Artemis pressed two manicured fingers to his temples, wishing that he could be there, at his ancestral manor, right then. St. Bartleby's struck him as pathetic, but he tried to lower his guard and socialize. Heaven knows he tried. It was not his fault that the students and teachers alike didn't seem to follow his lectures when he contributed to class discussions.  
  
Artemis scowled slightly, reviewing the email he'd sent to his family and. Butlers at the traditional Fowl residence.  
  
Dear Mother, Father, Juliet and Butler;  
School is not exactly a joy for me, but I am coping. Unfortunately  
the teachers or students here do not seem to appreciate my genius, so I have withdrawn from speaking openly in class; instead I only offer comments when called upon. Of course, I have not revealed how clever I am; as you  
know, that simply would not do.  
I can hardly wait until the end of final term in two weeks; I admit I miss you all very much, as well as the social comforts of Fowl Manor. The studies here at St. Bartleby's are sadly lacking, so I have composed a ten- page article on the importance of family values for Father and Mother to  
read through and approve.  
With love, your son and friend Artemis Fowl II  
  
The heir to the Fowl empire settled back in his chair, carefully smoothing the creases of his school suit. It was after school hours, and typically Artemis had finished all of his work. Child's play, he mused, a faint smile curling his lips. Prodigy he might be, but the fact remained that he was still a boy.  
  
In the absence of. better things to do, he slipped out of his dormitory and entered the garden greens, calculatingly surveying the garden design. They shouldn't have put the chrysanthemum next to the phlox, he observed silently, and some Japanese irises would have looked much better than those roses. He'd just finished an online degree in botany, specifically for this purpose, and enjoyed exercising his newfound knowledge.  
  
He strayed farther into the shade of a few evergreen trees, noticing a few holly bushes, radiantly adorned with glossy green leaves and blood-red berries.  
  
Artemis knelt to finger the leaves of the holly. Holly, he thought. Holly. Where have I heard that before?  
  
| Streets of Haven City, East Bank |  
  
Holly hurried through the crowded streets, weaving her way to a small apartment complex set farther back in the teeming city. She hurried up the neat second-floor hallway to a door somewhere in the middle of them all.  
  
Flipping down a black plastic hatch to reveal a gel pad, the captain pressed her left index finger directly in its centre. She waited a moment before the door swung open, admitting her. Holly paused to flip up the black cover again.  
  
The LEP captain flopped down on her futon, making a very unprofessional face at the mirror that reflected her image back at her. "What're you staring at," she muttered, before turning away to finish up some paperwork.  
  
Paperwork down, Holly proceeded to shower. She stepped out five minutes later, wrapping a robe around herself. Settling down on the chair in front of the mirror, she had a sudden whim do to something that she never thought she would.  
  
And of course, she did it.  
  
Resting slender fingers at her temples hairline, she breathed deeply, then sent infusions of magic scurrying down her tapered fingers. Auburn hair snaked down to caress her jawline and the nape of her neck. Holly examined herself in the mirror with a pleased expression, running her fingers through her auburn locks.  
  
A sudden noise from the street caused her to rush to the window. The crowd swirled in a frenzied motion around an axis of something that Holly couldn't see.  
  
She rushed to the mirror, nudging a few holders out of the way she swiveled it, revealing a black plasma screen on the other side. The elf captain secured it, and then flicked a metal touch sensor set into the table.  
  
Almost instantly Foaly's face flickered into view. "Holly! What'd you do with your hair?"  
  
Holly'd practically forgotten it. "Whatever, Foaly, but what in the name of all the gods is going on out there?"  
  
Foaly turned to consult his street cams. "Oh, just another one of them goblins. Nothing to worry about; I'll just send one of the night guys on over there to sort it out."  
  
Holly wasn't convinced. "What happened?"  
  
Foaly sighed. "He apparently smashed something very large and very cheap, okay? It looks to be a glass antique bottle."  
  
A glass bottle causing the city crowds to panic? Holly snorted. That was pathetic.  
  
Foaly punched some keys in. "I'm sending Vein down there right away."  
  
Holly knew Vein. He used to be the LEP's number one officer, until he got kicked down to fourth when she, Captain Kelp and Commander Root came on the picture.  
  
"So what else is going on?" she asked, flicking another eye towards her closed window.  
  
Foaly's head snapped up. "Oh, you are not gonna believe this."  
  
"Try me."  
  
"Oh, you ain't gonna believe this one."  
  
"Foaly!"  
  
"There's a chance that Mulch Diggums might be let go."  
  
Holly caught her breath. "What?"  
  
"The search date for his Beverly Hills residence appears to be the day after his arrest in that particular case," detailed Foaly. "Because of the help that he gave us in those Artemis Fowl cases, practically all of the other charges have been taken off of his profile."  
  
Holly could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Mulch? Innocent?"  
  
Foaly raised an eyebrow. "Apparently so, Captain Short. Were you following me or not?"  
  
"Of course I was," snapped Holly. "What does Commander Root have to say on this, then?"  
  
The plasma screen in front of her became a split-screen picture, Foaly's head sliding to the side to allow a tape of Julius Root to play.  
  
"Hello, convict," said the head. Holly could hear Mulch Diggums' voice exclaim, "Why, Julius!" after a short pause. "Enough," the commander growled, "I hear you have some news with dates in your file. Well, I'm telling you now, there is only a twenty-three percent chance that you're being released, and if you are -if- I can remind you that you will be closely monitored by the LEP for the rest of your life."  
  
"What?" asked Holly. "No yelling? No blowing his top?"  
  
"I know, " said Foaly glumly. "I thought the same thing."  
  
Holly suddenly realized that her robe was riding up her thigh. With a start she hurriedly pulled it back down, looking up just in time to catch Foaly's smirk.  
  
"What!" Holly glowered at the centaur, a rose tinge washing her cheeks in spite of herself.  
  
"What's up with you, Short?" asked Foaly, horsy hands drumming his aluminum desk. "First you did that thing with your hair, and then with your ro-"  
  
"Shut up, pony boy," snarled Holly, hazel eyes glaring practically through him.  
  
"I was just asking. No need to get all upset."  
  
"Well you know what? I did, okay? Honestly Foaly, fairies would like you a lot better if you just dropped the whole smart-alecky façade!"  
  
"Holly-"  
  
She slammed her palm down on the power sensor, flushing the centaur's image out in the middle of his speech. Turning away, she bit her lip, a single word going through her head.  
  
Why.why.why. 


	4. Mulch, Free

**Police****Plaza****, ****Haven****City****, The Lower Elements**

"Well, well. If it isn't the raunchy Captain Short in for work," commented Foaly, whirring out of the Ops Booth on the swivel chair digi-track that he'd had specially inset in Police Plaza. 

  "It's lovely to see you, Foaly," the LEP captain commented casually, choosing to ignore the pointed looks that the centaur was very clearly sending her. "Oh, and by the way, I think your arse is looking a little bigger already…"

  Foaly sniffed at the reference of his tendency not to exercise. After all, that was what the digi-track was for. "I think you're forgetting something."

  Holly actually had to stop walking down the hall to listen. "And what would that be?"

  Foaly adopted a grim expression. "As of last night you are guilty of openly trying to flirt with me. Me! The technical genius of the LEP. And, if I may remind you, you are but a lowly captain. Guilty as charged, eh?"

   Holly paused and backtracked a little so that she was standing directly in front of the centaur. She melded her cinnamon-colored features into a compassionate, understanding look, and, nodding, said in a very kind and helpful way: 

  "Go flirt with your arse, pony boy."

  Foaly's mock-outraged noises followed her down the hall into her cubicle until she slammed the door a bit more loudly than was necessary. Almost immediately Foaly's face flickered onto her screen.

  "So," he grinned.

  Holly opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped and bit the inside of her cheek. Foaly was almost unbearable sometimes.

  "I've got the update on Mister Mulch," said the centaur vaguely, shuffling about a mess of paperwork on one of his many desks.

  Holly was immediately alert. "Yes?"

  The centaur put on an annoyingly superior face. "Give nothin', get nothin'. I've got a couple of questions for ya." 

  Holly clenched a strand of her newly-grown hair in her hand. "Shoot."

  "First of all, are you busy Saturday night?"

  "Foaly!"

  "Okay, okay. What's up with your hair?"

  A bit of Holly's natural feminine vanity kicked in and she clutched the said tresses protectively. "What, don't you like it?"

  Foaly whistled. "Hell, yes, but it's definitely a change from 'no go, no flow' masculine LEP officer that we're all used to seeing."

  Holly tightened her facial muscles and stared moodily at the screen. What could she say? "I got… tired of looking the same."

  "Really."

  Holly rolled her eyes. "No, Foaly, I got a date for the first time in my life and I really wanted to please the guy."

  Foaly frowned. "Hey, hey, hey, that sounds plausible enough to me!"

  Holly gaped at the screen. "That's what you thought happened? Oh gods, Foaly, since when have _I ever tried to please a man?"_

  Foaly sniffed. "You do it for Julius all the time."

  Holly did not like the way this conversation was going. A bystander just passing by could get the entirely wrong impression. "Yes, he's my commanding officer. I do want to have a normal life here Foaly, you know – salary, home, the works."

  Foaly twitched a finger counsellingly. "How about a husband, and kids – _the _works_?"_

  Holly blushed at the thought. She didn't know why. "Oh come on Foaly, I'm never getting married. You know that. Be reasonable, pony boy – no girl can juggle marriage, little… _babies and the LEP all at once, I'd go crazy. Besides, the LEP is my life. It's what I do."_

  "I know what you do, Holly." Foaly looked like he thought he was the biggest smart guy under the world. "Speaking of girls going crazy with marriage and the LEP, it seems that Corporal Frond is going the whole ten miles. She's tying the knot next month; all of the LEP's invited. I, of course, will be attending. Maybe I can write a book about the sad, sorry sappiness of it all."

  "Frond's already crazy," Holly murmured. Corporal Lili Frond was the only other female LEP officer besides, of course, herself. Frond was nothing more than a blonde bimbo with false academy scores. Of course, she got all the easy assignments, such as video warnings and paperwork. Anyone against female officers in the LEP just had to present Corporal Frond and the rest would be history.

  "Back to the subject," she said hastily. 

  Foaly rolled his eyes searchingly. "Ah yes, ah yes – Mulch Diggums. Well, he's out. Free. Released. Overnight the deputy lawyer got together with one of the LEP's service attorneys and figured out that, because of the helpful search date on the L.A. case, and all of the credit given to him because of help on the Artemis Fowl cases, he's innocent, free as a bird. They released him this morning."

  Holly did a double take. This couldn't be possible. Mulch Diggums was _free_? What was the LEP _thinking_? They would have their hands full with this, all of them. Knowing the convict, he would probably immediately set up another black marketplace or go and market fairy gold. 

  As if to read her thoughts, Foaly spoke. 

  "I didn't get the chance to see our favorite little friend before her was released, but two weeks ago, when he first came into LEP prison, he had a little surgery that he knows nothing about. A micro tracking device was embedded in his ankle, sewn in under the skin. We know his whereabouts 24/7. If he starts doing something suspicious, then we can send an agent up there to bring him down here so that he can cool his feet in a nice cell for a while." Foaly checked a com-screen. "Currently he is in the south of France."

  Holly did another double take. "You mean underneath, right?"

  "Nope. He's a free dwarf now. He took a shuttle up E28 and left the terminal shortly. The LEP guidebook states that he had every right to do so. Sorry, Holly, but there ain't nothing you can do about him now. I can't do anything either, unfortunately. Root is having a coronary over this. He took the morning off, thank the gods. Otherwise there would be heads rolling all over Police Plaza."

  Holly flushed out the image on the screen with a little wave and then concentrated on her thoughts. Mulch Diggums –released? She didn't like the symbolism of it. Wasn't there going to be a ton of controversy over this? Wasn't there going to be –

  Holly concentrated and sighed. Politics were too much for one girl to handle – best leave it to Foaly and Commander Root – well, no. She wouldn't go that far. It was best to leave politics and such to Foaly. 

  She ran her hands absently through her hair. Already she loved it – Captain Short squirmed. As much as she tried, she couldn't help but be a little feminine. She was, after all, a girl. 

  "Oh well," she said to her reflection in the plasma screen. "There are some things you just can't help." It was only a little while later that it occurred to her that she did not know what she referring to. 


	5. From Fowl to Manchester

**|Houx Motel|**

  Mulch Diggums was, as of the moment, extremely busy with a task that anyone other than the dwarf probably would have abandoned long ago. However, Mulch was a dwarf was a cause, no matter how self-oriented that cause was. Actually, it was completely self-oriented.

  Mulch was, with a knife, carefully picking out the needle-eye locator that the LEP had installed in his ankle. He had been doing so for the last half-hour and was almost to the point where he could jimmy the microtechnological wonder _out_. Not yet though. Mulch winced at the sight of the bloody hole in his own foot. Why did the LEP have to go in so _deep_?

  It had been an elementary thing to do. He had taken a leaf out of Artemis Fowl's book with the proverb _Know thine enemy, and had persuaded his jail officer to get him a copy of the LEP standard rules and regulations on the pretext that he was finally breaking down. Textbook in hand, the dwarf had leafed through the pages, carefully marking all laws referring to dangerous convicts. It had been easy. _All convicts therefore being released from their prison thereof shalt be marked with a locator surgically installed on their person. _It was like taking candy from a baby. Mulch figured that the LEP must have done their dirty business when he'd blacked out on the return shuttle from the Artemis Fowl site. No wonder he'd thought it odd. _

   When he was released, he had immediately taken a shuttle to France's surface. He'd "borrowed" a portable scanner from an official's desk and, when he arrived at a motel that seemed suitable, had, in the privacy of his room, proceeded to swipe himself down. When the scanner passed over his ankle, it had gone haywire. Simple as that – and now he was chipping away at his own flesh, removing the locator. If only it wasn't so – Mulch shuddered- darn _bloody_.

   Ten minutes later, he had cleaned, washed and bandaged his gory battle wound. The now clean, minute locator was set in a glass on the dresser. Mulch stared at it. It was absolutely tiny, only about one half centimeter square. How was it that something so small could be so dangerous to him?

   He blinked. He'd just had an idea – but, of course, it would involve more blood. And gore. Mulch suppressed a shudder. He was a thief, not a surgeon! How long was this going to go on?

**|Police Plaza|**

Holly cruised down the hallway into the Ops Booth. She wanted to see something.

  She pushed the door open, disturbing Foaly in the middle of what looked to be an equation of squiggly lines and chicken feet. The attractive officer decided to let that slip for the time being and poked the centaur in the back.

  Foaly jumped. "D'arvit, Holly. What d'you need?"

  "Just a whim. Where's our favorite convict right now?"

  Foaly tapped a key and a map popped up on screen, marked in the general European area by a bright red dot. 

  "France. In the Houx Motel. He's not doing anything much. Just sitting, probably reveling in his newfound freedom."

   Holly snorted. "Well, if I know Mulch, he won't be sitting around for long doing nothing."

  "Yeah," agreed Foaly. "Not Mulch."

**|In the rues of France|**

  Mulch dumped the big tomcat next to a garbage can and slipped into a café through the back door. Seated in a booth and lazily waving away some of the cigarette smoke that clouded the air, he recounted what he had just finished, not denying himself a very wide grin of triumph.

  He had picked the tom off of the street and sedated him with an animal tranquilizer again borrowed from a clinic. In his motel room he had preceded to make a small cut in the animal's side, insert the locator, and sew 'er up. Mulch was no neurologist, but he felt that he had done a capital job on the cat. So, now that he was no longer being tracked by the LEP…

  He went outside to a pay phone, slotted in a few coins, and made the call.

**|Fowl Manor|**

  The phone in Artemis's office purred. 

  "Butler?" the teenager called.

  With a slightly amused glance towards his charge's bathroom door, the manservant picked up the receiver and answered.

  "The office of Artemis Fowl. May I help you in any way?"

  Artemis emerged from the bathroom, dressed unusually casually in jeans and a Calvin Klein shirt. Butler gave him a look before returning to the phone. 

  "I would like to speak to Master Fowl." The voice was clipped and courteous. The bodyguard didn't recognize it. 

  He tapped the phone and mouthed at Artemis, "It's for you."

  With a nod, Artemis took the receiver. "This is Artemis Fowl speaking," he said.

  "Edmund… Manchester," returned the voice on the other end. "I would, if your schedule would allow, to arrange a meeting of sorts. Preferably within the next week or so."

  Artemis frowned. Most – indeed, practically all – businessmen did not take Artemis seriously enough as a genius and possible rival. After all, he was only available during his school holidays, such as now. And this man wanted an appointment? 

  It would be rude to refuse. After all, the meeting would take place in Artemis's own house. What could go wrong? The teenager checked his calendar. 

  "Would two-thirty on Thursday work?" he asked politely.

  "Sure – pardon me, certainly. Of course. I will arrive at your manor promptly." 

  Artemis was about to say some more, but he was interrupted by the dial tone. Mr. Manchester had hung up.

  Artemis closed his eyes and would probably have started to massage his temples if Butler had not intervened.

  "What did he say, Artemis?"

  Artemis told him, finishing with the part that aggravated him most. "And I don't even know what his business is!" he burst out.

  Butler raised his eyebrows, a six-foot-plus pillar of calm. "Well, at least your holiday will be more eventful than you anticipated," he pointed out.

  Artemis opened his mouth, then nodded. "That's true," he admitted.


	6. Mulchlike Manchester

**| On Highway South |**

  Mulch was nervous. He didn't know why. After all, he was now a completely legitimate businessman, complete with limo and Armani suit. But perhaps he was getting ahead of himself.

  Mulch, obviously, was Edmund Manchester. Within the space of three days, he had visited a guy he knew who was good with false I.D.s, opened a bank account using money from the credit card of an American tourist whose wallet he had pawned, used another leaf of Master Fowl's book to invest in gold in the stock market, and visited a personal tailor. He was now a very legal, wealthy Mr. Manchester, the owner of the brand-new company _Fairyware, a company that would specialize in… well; Mulch hadn't figured that one out yet. Perhaps __Fairyware could do everything. Children's toys to clothing to futuristic technology. Mulch liked that idea. After all, more products brought in more money._

  So, now all he needed was the cooperation of one certain boy genius. Mulch was certain that with the Irish boy's help, the imaginary _Fairyware_ would boom. Of course, Mulch would be perfectly willing to risk it all alone. But a genius was always nice to have as a business partner, and besides, Mulch felt he owed the teenager something. If it hadn't been for Artemis, Mulch would be sitting in jail right now, rubbing his sore behind. 

  The kleptomaniac dwarf lovingly fingered the gold minidisk in his suit pocket. It would only be a little while until he could ask for anything in the world… and no one would have the power to say no. Mulch giggled. Especially Julius.

**|Fowl Manor|**

  The bell rang. Butler dove for the front door immediately. Artemis was upstairs in one of many conference rooms, and his anxiety was wearing off on the manservant. _Be careful… set up the door scanner… don't forget to check for bombs. _Butler snorted. Honestly. One could only be so careful, but Artemis seemed to have forgone the limit.

  He drew the heavy oaken door open. It went easily, almost floating on its oiled hinges. Artemis insisted on that. He insisted on a lot of things. Artemis was far from easygoing, Butler reflected. How the Fowl heir was going to get married and continue the Fowl line was beyond thinking about. 

  The bodyguard blinked and focused his attention on the individual on the doorstep. His eyes followed down… down… down… until finally he made eye contact with the diminutive man in a tailored suit and an elegantly sarcastic expression. 

  "Good afternoon," said the individual. He was hiding behind a pair of rather large but somehow chic sunglasses. "I am Mr. Edmund Manchester, here to see Master Artemis Fowl?"

  Butler wondered how that could be a question, but acknowledged the unusually small man politely and led him upstairs to where Artemis was waiting in the aforementioned conference room, his hands folded delicately on a glass-topped table.

  Artemis did not seem at all shocked at the diminutive businessman's size; in fact he was overly pleasant. Butler withdrew and shut the door. He would be monitoring the progress of the conference from the rather obviously-named monitor room.

  Mulch suppressed a grin and instead allowed a somber, melodramatic smile to steal across his makeup-toned features. He'd touched up himself a little bit in the limo, just to make himself look a little rosier. There was no need to imitate Julius, but even the dwarf admitted that prison pallor was starting to take on his features. 

  "Mr. Manchester," said Artemis, flipping up his laptop's cover and pushing it slightly to the side so he could see his contact's face. "You were rather… discreet… about business over the telephone. If you would not mind explaining yourself a little more directly, by all means do so." In the monitor room, Butler rolled his eyes. It was perhaps a more sugary way of saying, "Get down to business or you're outta here."

  "Indeed," said Mulch, in tones that would have put Julius to shame. "What I wanted to discuss was the beginning of my new corporation, _Fairyware_. I planned to market it as a multi-purpose company. I have good holdings in the stock market. I've bought over a thousand shares of gold at a price of two pounds apiece. All I need, Fowl, is a business partner. Preferably someone with brains and not averse to illegal schemes."

   Butler, watching the screen, did a double take. In the conferencing room, Artemis's pale face remained calm, but his mind was churning. This man wanted a business partner? Why was that odd? Perhaps it was the usual lack of faith that men put into the boy genius. That could have been it; but another rather suspicious thing was nagging at Artemis. Why had he never heard of this Edmund Manchester before? It was possible that the man in question was just a budding businessman – here the prodigy smirked- but still. 

  Artemis addressed Manchester with genuine sincerity. "I will consider your generous offer. If I could have a moment please." He turned to his laptop and immediately activated a search for Interpol files on one Manchester, Edmund. Within moments a file whirred up onscreen.

  Now it was Mulch's turn to smirk. No doubt the Irish teenager was searching for Interpol files. Thanks to the false papers guy who'd had a contact who'd had a contact and so on, the boy would be finding one.

  **Manchester, Edmund**, the screen read. **Born to duchess and duke in a far duchy of ****England****, ****Manchester**** is currently launching company dubbed _Fairyware_. 38, 2'11, Caucasian. **

  Artemis nodded impassively, then turned to face the man. "Just what was it that you were planning to market?" he asked.


	7. Hair and Holly

**|Police Plaza|**

  Holly was sprawled on a couch in the assignment room, massaging the tips of her pointy ears. She was so oddly intent on her task that she didn't even notice when Corporal Frond entered and seated herself across from the captain.

  "Like, Captain?" Lili could never bring herself to address Holly as "sir".

  Captain Short jumped and was immediately brought back to earth. Under the earth, to be more accurate. "Yes?"

  Lili gave her the eye. "Like, what did you do with your hair?"

  Holly was beginning to get annoyed with this entire "what's-up-with-the-hair" routine. It was getting old. Corporal Kelp, when he had first seen her, had, staring, walked straight past her and into the wall. Commander Root had gaped and remained speechless for several moments until she had gently asked him if he needed to be slapped. Private Chix Verbil had thought that it was grounds for rapid advance and had needed physical reminding that she was, after all, still his superior officer and not some auburn-haired piece of meat. And now this.

  "Well you see I got breast enlargement surgery and this was a side effect," she said sarcastically. It was sarcasm with a heavy sting in the tail. It had been the talk of the month when Corporal Frond walked in for work one day with a bosom that looked seriously increased by size from the day before. 

  Lili sniffed and looked hurt. She also cupped her hands around her chest. Holly could hardly keep from choking with laughter and distaste.

  "I don't believe you," said the corporal in a wounded, puppy-dog sort of way. 

  Holly smiled understandingly. "Don't you?"

  "No-o," whispered the sadly oblivious corporal.

  "Well that's too damn bad," growled Holly, and went back to massaging her ears.

  Lili sniffed for about a minute before she said in a sad, sweet undertone, "You're really pretty, Captain Holly."

  Holly eyed her. "And?"

  "I was just wondering how you got that way, that's all," said the corporal placidly.

  "Mother," Holly eked out, producing a comb and proceeding to rip at her hair with it.

  "Do you mean that you got your beauty from your mother?"

  Holly gave up being nasty. After all, Lili was trying to make a point of being nice here. Normally she just pointed her nose towards the air and sailed past.

  "In a manner of speaking, yes," she said resignedly.

  Almost immediately, Lili changed the subject. "You know, you really should use a brush," she said pointedly, referring to Holly's rip-with-the-comb technique.

  Almost as quickly, a brush appeared in Holly's hand and began scraping away at her hair. It was a while before it was finally smooth and untangled. 

  "If you like, I could lend you some hair spray," said Lili, taking out a clear spray bottle and pointing the nozzle ominously at Holly's head.

  "That's okay," said Holly quickly. The corporal's sickly-sweet hair scent reeked of rotten flowers and gummi bears – _not something Holly wanted to smell like._

  "No, it's fine," persisted the corporal, "you just spray it on your hand and rub it on, like this." She demonstrated on her own hair. "Here, why don't you try it?"

  Captain Trouble Kelp walked in on Corporal Frond chasing Captain Short around with a flowered bottle in hand. There was real fear in Holly's eyes, Trouble could see it. He could also smell the hair spray.

  "Sharing beauty secrets, are we girls?" he asked pleasantly.

  A moment later he was flat on his back with Holly seated on his chest. "Don't mention it," she said ominously.

  "Sure, sure… hey, Holly, what's with your hair?"

  Holly snatched the officer's lapels and hoisted them up slightly. "Don't mention that either."

  "But-"

  Holly brought her hazel eyes very close to Trouble's dark ones and gazed at him. It was an eerie experience. "Not a word," she said.

  Trouble had a sudden urge to touch her. Not, however, that they could get all that much closer to each other. They were so close that Corporal Frond, watching the scene with her hand over her red lips, was giggling under her breath. 

  "Not a word," he said.

  Holly let him up. They surveyed each other for a minute, than she said casually, "You look cute when you're scared."

  He winked at the other captain. "Do I?"


	8. Abused

**|Police****Plaza****, Two Months Later|**

  Holly lingered in the Ops Booth maybe a little longer than she should have, resting her head on Foaly's shoulder casually and looping her arms around his head so that she could see the screen while having a perch for balance. "You're sure?" the words barreled out of her impatient mouth before she could stop them. She was, however, too eager to rethink herself. "No, really?"

  Foaly gave her an amused sideways glance. "Yes." He scrolled down the data update once more. The news had come in: Artemis Fowl II and a businessman named Edmund Manchester had started a corporation under the name of _Fairyware_, and Foaly wanted someone to investigate it. "It's suspicious enough," he had said when she had come in, "and who wants another menacing Fowl affair?"

  Holly released Foaly's head and edged off to the other side of the Ops Booth. She was unusually hyper today, something that slightly bothered her but in general she liked. There was something invigorating about bouncing around the Plaza like a hundred-year-old, even if Trouble Kelp had given her an odd look. 

  "You can stop bouncing off the walls now," droned Foaly. "I'm thinking of setting Captain Vein on the case. He's a good one, no doubt."

  Holly stopped immediately and became the perfect picture of a demure, obedient female captain. "Negative, sir," she said, mock-childishly, "may I have it, sir."

  Foaly squinted at her. "Well, I don't know… you seem to be having a lot of fun out there on Tourist Patrol."

  Holly was horrified. "Oh, Foaly, please no… you know that I have no skills for that sort of thing. People seem to think that because I'm a girl I'm either a target to beat up on or someone to discuss puberty with. Honestly." She imitated an elf mother's voice. "'Ah yes, my Minnie. Well, she's a plucky one, no doubt. Hem, hem. Y'know the way they get when they're young, hem hem.'" She glared at Foaly. "If you put me on Tourist Patrol again, I'll set you on a shuttle to Atlantis and attempt to bar all avenues of return."

  "Oh, so terrifying," said Foaly sarcastically. "Excuse me for knowing that you are a technological doofus. Well, d'you really want the job?"

  If Holly spent one more day hanging around the outskirts of Haven and directing gum-snapping tourists, she was going to crack. "Yes, yes, of course."

  Foaly shook his head and turned to type something into the computer. He muttered something along the lines of, "Her and… love Artemis Fowl."

  Suddenly he turned abruptly in his swivel chair. "Holly," he said, his voice unusually serious, "are you sure that you're not too… emotionally involved for this case? There's a lot that you're going to have to do."

  Holly gave him a look. "I'm perfectly fine, Foaly. Being a girl does not mean I burst into tears every time someone mentions childbirth."

  "Childbirth," said Foaly immediately. Holly glared.

  "Er, sorry. Just had to see for myself. Well, you know… there is the small detail…" The centaur squirmed. "Well for the gods' sake, Holly, everyone knows that you're in love with Artemis Fowl." He said it quickly, and then busied himself with picking at his hooves.

  Holly thought that she surely must have just heard wrong. "Excuse me?" she said incredulously. "Did you just say, 'In love with Artemis Fowl'? No. No. That is wrong, Foaly. That is just incredibly stupid and false and _wrong_."

  Foaly perked up. "You mean that you _don't love him? Oh good."_

  "Just a minute, pony boy." Holly sounded anything but pleased. "Who told you this and when? That's crazy, that's stupid… that's just D'Arvit. That's damn idiotic – well?"

  "It was going around Police Plaza," said the decidedly uncomfortable-looking centaur. "Been going around, I should say. It's good gossip, been circulating ever since he was mindwiped, I guess. Everyone just thought… well, he obviously likes you."

  "Go on."

  "And you, well, Holly… you're the first female Recon officer ever. You're the best. You're attractive, and you'd make just about any couple shine. So people bought it. It was good gossip. Like I said." The centaur was repeating himself. He must be nervous. But Holly's mind wasn't on Foaly right now, it was on what he had just said. How many people – Holly growled. "I'm taking the afternoon off," she said over her shoulder, as she stormed out of Police Plaza and into the streets.

**|Apartment**** 017****, Complex 12|**

  Holly flopped down on her futon fifteen minutes later, dressed in only a nightshirt and underwear. She wasn't planning on going out, so why bother? After all, it was almost sunrise. And she needed time to think.

  She, in love with Artemis Fowl. Holly scoffed at the idea. She couldn't even believe that people could swallow such garbage. She was obviously several centuries older than he was, and he was her _abductor. Honestly. But maybe that was why people liked the story: the sheer incredibility and impossibility of it all._

  She sat up and looked at herself in the mirror that faced her. Delicate features, cherubic lips, wide, heavily-lashed hazel eyes, high cheekbones, small nose, layered auburn hair, and a swan neck to rival Nefertiti's. Well, she couldn't help how she looked. If she had been anyone else –a waitress, for example- would she still be as… as… _alluring? Holly snorted. Probably. At least then she would be more available than she was now._

  How had she become what she was now, though? Dangerous and beautiful, was that how people saw her? Sure, she was good with a gun, and so her face was easy on the eyes, but… Holly squirmed. So every girl wanted to know that she was well-liked. So she was, but she'd never expected it to be tied to Artemis Fowl! 

  And did Artemis like her? So what. Hell, he'd kidnapped her and been bloody savage in the process. The thought of herself prostrate, drugged, open for the taking was enough to make Holly scream, which she didn't. Maybe that was why she kept her guard up, maybe that was why she was a virgin… she was afraid of being abused. 


	9. Threats Prevail

Note: Okay, everybody, I just went on vacation, sorry for not updating, but I was thinking about Holly and Foaly and everybody in general on the plane and realized that my tearful plot was not at all realistic and respectful to the characters, so I'm changing it. I don't really know where this is going, but please bear with me… it might turn out okay, all right?

**| ****Police****Plaza****, Report Room 027 |**

Foaly was excited. Zooming around collecting print-outs from his wildly beeping machines, he was the picture of rushed happiness. This annoyed Holly, who was seated in a chair in the middle of the room as a blond elf measured her legs and feet. 

  "Foaly…" she said.

  "This is great," said the centaur in a low, husky stage-whisper. "Baby, this couldn't get any greater-"

  Holly whacked him on the shoulder as he passed. "Goddammit Foaly, just get to the point! Would you please explain why Miss Garfunkel here is amusing herself with the opposite lengths of the tape measure and my leg? Honestly, pony boy. Suspense is not all it's jacked up to be."

  Foaly gave her a look. "Miss _Garcia is measuring your legs so she can craft appropriate prosthetic limbs that will fit you properly."_

  "That's not an answer."

  "Technically it is, oh wisecracking little elf, but I'll deign to explain myself." Foaly had to pause for effect. "I'm trying something new with you in here. It's never been tested before, Holly. Brand new. A prototype, in a manner of speaking. You are the first elf ever to do this. Okay." Foaly had to pause for breath. Too much excitement, bad for the heart. "Instead of investigating as a winged and shielded LEPrecon officer… you'll be investigating under the guise of a human. Is that beautiful or what?"

  It took a few moments before Holly could speak. She gaped at the centaur as Miss Garcia quietly measured away. "Foaly, you idiot!"

  Foaly perked up. "Now if you're wanting to compare IQ points-"

  "How is this going to go down? This is risky, pony boy, risky! What if the mind-wipe didn't take right? What if he remembers the People? What is Commander Root going to think about this?" Holly knew that dragging Root's opinion into this was going a bit… stupid, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

  Foaly was hurt. "Do you think that I am so stupid that I haven't passed this with the Council, Captain? They only agreed to do it because _you_ were the test case. Of course, you know that your career won't survive another blow…" Foaly's eyes glinted under the florescent lighting of the report room.

  Holly cut her eyes towards him. "Are you threatening me, pony boy?"

  "Yes," continued Foaly, "one more incident out of line and you might as well be out of a job. This is a high-risk operation, Short. You never know what might happen."

  Holly stood, much to the dismay of the kneeling Miss Garcia. "It was voluntary, Foaly. I'll go back to Tourist Patrol, thank you very much." Not that Captain Holly Short was a coward; of course, it was just that knowing Foaly this scheme would have several ridiculously dangerous facets. Holly was not prepared to throw her job after some harebrained scam. Especially not where Artemis Fowl was concerned. The Irish Mud Boy had a remarkable scent for trouble, probably even with a mind wipe. 

  Foaly adopted a lugubrious face. "Orders from the top, Captain. So your job: lose it now, lose it later; your choice. What is it?"

  Holly stared at him for a moment before snarling, "I'll take it!" and storming out.


End file.
